Hi everyone, CstM here. I hope you’re all doing amazing. We’ve had better days to be honest.
How was your valentine’s day? We celebrated for the first time since Leggy got the news about his dad passing. We had a nice homemade meal and played the Bill and Ted board game, that Leggy got for Christmas. It was a really fun night. I’d found a copy of a childhood book for Leggy and he got me a nice decoration for the bookshelves.
On the 15th I was in the middle of making dinner when my phone rang. It was my auntie, dad’s sister, calling to tell me that she had found my dad dead.
No one was expecting it. Hell, I had spoken to him on the phone just days before. He’d complained about having pulled his back, but then he’d done that before. Shortly before the lockdowns he’d had surgery for a slipped disk in his back. So no one was too phased by him having back issues. We sure as hell didn’t think he’d turn up dead. I mean last time we saw him was back in September for his 60th birthday.
I’m not sure if I mentioned here, but the parental unit got divorced some years back. It was quite a messy divorce, and my dad was taking it a bit hard. I came over to help the mothership pack, but ended up mostly spending some quality time with my dad. Now my dad was a bit of a quiet man, bit on the gruff side at first sight. So I was very worried about how he’d do after the divorce. How would he deal with being alone. Would he let the bitterness of the divorce eat him up? I remember sitting in the car with him, and telling him something akin to “just because mum did some shitty things, doesn’t mean you let everything go to shit!” He told me later that those words really made a difference in his life. He called up a friend, got a crash course in all things facebook, joined a bunch of single groups and started going to events. The difference was massive. He ended up having a crap ton of friends, even went on several dates. He was getting increasingly harder to get ahold of because he’d be out at parties, concerts and one time even ballet and a fashion show. It was absolutely amazing to see him blossom up. I’m sure he was having the time of his life. He had made plans to come over in the summer with his motorcycle and some friends, to tour Scotland. This guy really didn’t have time to die.
My aunt’s boyfriend was the one who held the eulogy at the funeral, so he contacted me asking for my memories of dad. All I could remember was the silly times we had pranking each other. Like the year I as a teen really wanted the newest Harry Potter book. It was all I talked about and wanted. My birthday comes and I get a small, not book shaped gift. I open it and it’s a Roger Whittaker cd. Now I’m just sitting there thinking “WTF!?” When my dad grabs the cd, pulls of the plastic and happily tells me that surely I want to listen to my new music. My only thought was “I can’t exchange it now!” The bastard the laughed and went to find my real birthday gift, which of course was the newest Harry Potter book.
But yeah, that was my dad. Always doing funny or stupid things to make us laugh or be embarrassed by him. Like when he’d pull his joggers up to his armpits, do a department of funny walks impression and talk about getting a shirt with my picture on it and “she’s my daughter” underneath. In the supermarkets he’d stand in one corner and shout across the shop at my mum, asking if we needed x item. Me as an embarrassed teen would pretend like I didn’t know him by calling him Mr Man (Hr Mand in Danish). Like I’d go up to him and do a whole thing of “you there Mr. Man, who I’ve never met before, are you in need of this cheese?” By time it got shorter and shorter and he got stuck with the nickname of Herman.
Now the Danish coroner was surprisingly speedy. His autopsy was performed within days, and his funeral was two weeks after his passing. Honestly I was not ready for the funeral at all. Even walking up to the church, I was telling Leggy that we could just go to McD instead and pretend like nothing had happened. But in the end I was happy that I went. It was a beautiful ceremony, and turns out I was the only one of my siblings who showed up. One was late, showed up for the wake, and one didn’t show at all.
The wake was just in dad’s spirit. It was beers and soda at his favourite pub/concert place. Auntie even managed to get his favourite local blues musician to come out and give a concert. I’m sure dad was somewhere really miffed that he was missing out. Especially after the funeral had the family singing twice. I personally thought the guy had suffered enough, but apparently having to listen to our tone deaf bunch is your punishment for dying too early.
I still can’t believe he’s gone. I keep reaching for the phone to tell him about things, just to remember he isn’t there. Hopefully in time it’ll get better.